


Wandering Gaze

by cobain_cleopatra



Series: Little Crow Oneshots [4]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Daud POV, Dishonored AU, Fluff, Grumpy Daud, M/M, Pining, Snarky Corvo, whaler Corvo, younger Corvo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:52:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8110108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobain_cleopatra/pseuds/cobain_cleopatra
Summary: Over the years, Daud could never quite keep his eyes turned away.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aeniala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeniala/gifts).



1827

         2nd Day, Month of Rain

 

Daud despised overseeing the new recruit’s training. It was no secret around Rudshore, and Billie often argued he went specifically out of his way to let everyone know exactly how much he despised it. The men knew to stay out of Daud’s way when they saw him stalking towards the training room.

As he swept into the room, some of the novices quite literally jumped. Some others contained themselves to a flinch. One or two watched him prowl about with a curious but wary gaze. They all stood huddled together, waiting with baited breath for their first lesson to begin. Some would have more experience than others, some would be faster learners.

 _And some would undoubtedly need years of training to merely hold a blade correctly_ , a cruel voice taunted in the back of Daud’s head. He felt his upper lip curl as he went to stand beside Rulfio.

“Relax, all of you,” the Whaler said amusedly to the group. “He may look ready to kill you all, but won’t. He wouldn't tolerate the mess,” he added, his teasing mostly aimed at Daud if the shit-eating grin on his face was anything to go by.

Daud narrowed his eyes in a warning, but it did little to daunt the man. Rulfio had proven himself immune to Daud’s wrath and threats.

“Why do I keep you around,” he growled instead, slumping back against one of the crates.

“Would you rather handle them alone?” Rulfio’s tone was as infuriating as his grin, and Daud cursed the truth behind the question. He didn’t know what he’d do without Rulfio’s aid in Rudshore, not that he’d admit it aloud.

“I’d rather not handle them at all.”

“Tough,” Rulfio said shortly. “It was your idea, if I recall. Get to know the men, see their strengths and weaknesses. Show them they can count on you for help, all that fucking nonsense. What was it you said after we met,” he mused. “‘A good leader shows that he's _with_ his men, not above them?’”

“Void take you, mocking me with my own words.”

“It’s good logic, in your defence.” Rulfio nudged his arm, far too lively for having just gone sunrise. “You trained with Billie and Thomas personally, now look at them. They’re the best fighters in the city,” he argued. “Even Arden’s improved, and you remember what he was like.”

“I’d rather not.” Daud swore he’d aged ten years during Arden's training.

Another nudge to his shoulder had him visibly snarling. Some of the novices took a step back.

“Let’s get started, shall we? We’re wasting the morning away,” Rulfio said, straightening up. “What first?”

“Blade work.” Daud stayed where he was, slouched against the far wall, while Rulfio got the group standing to attention.

Daud's eyes took them in, not unlike a predator sighting its prey. Most of them were young, around fifteen or sixteen, and they gave off a nervous energy. But two or three stood out to him instantly. Jordan. Energetic kid, talked a lot. He seemed more excited than nervous, which was an encouraging sign; he was almost bouncing on the heels of his boots as Rulfio handed him a blunted practice sword. One of the girls, Leonid, took her weapon boredly, as though she couldn’t understand her comrades’ apprehension.

Daud’s interest remained on Corvo for a while. The boy’s hair had grown quickly in the month or so he’d been with them. Daud reminded himself to have a word about it after training; it wouldn’t do to have it obscuring his vision like that. He took his blade in silence, and Daud noted that he held it correctly without a second thought. Reassuring, considering two other recruits were somehow holding theirs upside down.

Rulfio spent the better part of an hour taking them through the motions of how to handle a sword. The select few Daud had focused on showed promise; Leonid in particular. The girl clearly had a natural gift for blade work. Jordan’s footwork was sloppy, but his determination and willingness to improve didn’t fail to impress. Corvo’s speed was unlike anything Daud had seen before.

“Pair up,” Rulfio ordered once he’d shown them the basics. “Try out what I’ve shown you.” He returned to Daud’s side, both of them scrutinising the recruits together.

Daud watched closely as sparring partners were chosen. He was certain Leonid and Corvo hadn’t said one word to one another, but there was a silent agreement there to stick together. They were both quiet, focused. A good match, Daud decided. Jordan and Zachary were less so; they fooled around for a while, cracking jokes until Daud barked at them to concentrate.

“I know that look,” Rulfio spoke up after a while. “Same one you had when Billie and Thomas first sparred.”

Daud jerked his head in Corvo and Leonid’s direction. “Those two are doing well.”

“You sound surprised,” Rulfio chuckled. “Not everyone you pick off the streets is incompetent.”

Daud grunted a reply. He watched Corvo trip Leonid down, flip the practice blade in his palm and catch the handle sideways. He crouched to press the newly positioned blade against the girl’s throat.

“Outsider’s eyes,” Rulfio said, staring at Daud in disbelief. “Are you smiling?”

Daud realised he was, just slightly. He had never smiled during training before.

 

***

1828

         8th Day, Month of Clans

 

Julian hadn’t been in Rudshore for long, and Quinn had only arrived about a week ago. But here they were, in Daud's office. Bloody noses and fists. Snarling at each other.

Daud dismissed Julian with a strict warning. He was still just a child; self-centred, thinking the world revolved around him and his opinions. Daud gave him the benefit of the doubt, that given time to grow, he’d drop that attitude in due course.

Quinn still stood in front of the desk, spitting curse after curse about Julian. The girl– _boy,_ Daud hastily corrected himself. He had no business judging how Quinn wanted himself to be seen. The boy was feisty, confident. Daud had picked him up in the Distillery District, and had liked him instantly.

But he wouldn’t stand for fighting amongst his men, no matter who started it or finished it. He told Quinn to come to him if Julian disturbed him again, and dismissed the novice with the reassurance that he would be protected in Rudshore, as long as Daud knew of his problems.

When Quinn took his leave and the doors closed, Daud heaved an irritable sigh at the remaining Whaler.

Corvo had come out worst in the fight. Split lip, cracked jaw, and a nosebleed that could put any Overseer Daud had ever punched to shame. Daud suspected the boy had taken most of Julian’s hits, protecting Quinn.

“Explain yourself.”

“Julian’s a piece of shit.”

Daud raised an eyebrow, not willing to admit it was more out of amusement than annoyance at the boy’s frankness. After six months with them, Corvo had certainly come out of his shell. His candour was something no Whaler in Rudshore had been prepared for.

“I’m aware of how Julian acts,” Daud answered after a moment. “I want to know exactly what happened. As a third party, I’d like an attempt at a non-bias view.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Because you’re on Quinn’s side?”

“Because Julian’s a piece of shit.”

Daud heaved another sigh, rubbing his temples with two gloved fingers. “At least tell me how it started.”

“Quinn passed Julian in the corridor. Julian started pushing him around. I stepped in.” Corvo's voice was almost monotone, the words spoken quickly but clearly. Factual, to the point.

Daud felt both frustration and approval twist in his gut. “I don’t want you to pick fights with the men anymore.”

“Julian–”

“Hit first, so you’ve said,” Daud interrupted, raising a hand to silence him. “I don’t want you or Quinn to hit back again.”

Corvo’s brow arched into a glare. “So we’re not supposed to defend ourselves.”

“Pigheaded child,” Daud bit out under his breath. “You’re supposed to come to me if one of my men is acting out of line,” he said sternly. “We have to trust one another. Trust me to keep Quinn safe, and Julian out of his way. I can’t do anything about it if you don’t let me know what’s happening.” He paused to let the words sink in, but only briefly. Corvo was sharp, for someone so young. “You’re not alone, so don’t think you have to handle situations like that alone. Do you understand?”

Corvo expression had become a little milder at Daud’s answer. He chewed on the inside of his mouth, then gave a short nod.

“Good.” Daud returned to the reports on his desk, pen scratching on them as he addressed the Whaler again. “Out. You have training at noon, so clean yourself up in the infirmary, and then get to it.”

He heard Corvo turn, his light footsteps pad away. Daud found himself looking up, watching until the boy reached the doors.

“Attano.”

Corvo glanced back over his shoulder.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re looking out for Quinn. Even if your attempt was misguided,” Daud decided to add, just to let his point sink in further. “Don’t let me hear of you fighting with Julian again.”

“Sir.”

The word held a hint of defiance, and Daud somehow knew this wouldn’t be the last time he found Corvo standing at the desk with Julian’s blood on his knuckles.

He glimpsed back up, a reprimand held ready between his teeth, but Corvo had already slipped out of the office.

“Pigheaded child,” Daud repeated.

 

***

1830

         25th Day, Month of Harvest

 

Every recruit who succeeded their training had one final task to undergo. This last trial always took place out in Dunwall itself. An assassination, abduction, or burglary. Most Whalers were in their early twenties by the time they reached this stage. Corvo was seventeen.

Those who failed would have to wait another six months to be allowed out into the city; they’d spend that time training, learning where they went wrong and why. Provided they survived their task, of course.

Corvo perched on the rooftop at Daud’s side, mask off and hair blowing loose around his face. After two years, Daud had never remembered to order the damned mop to be cut shorter. Corvo pulled out a small strap from one of his pockets, managing to tame most of his hair back, but a few unruly strands still struggled free. Daud didn’t waste time snapping at him about it.

A carriage pulled up in the main square of the Estate District, where they were overlooking. A man stepped out, delicately brushing off his suit.

“Lord Montgomery Shaw,” Daud said. “We’ve been hired by one of his rivals.”

“Bunting,” Corvo supplied. “He’s been after the painting Shaw outbid him for at an auction.”

Daud was reassured that, if Corvo failed today, at least his knowledge of the target and client was sound. “You remember the piece I described?”

“Light along the Inverse Curse,” Corvo answered. “Sokolov’s self portrait.”

Daud nodded as he watched Lord Shaw enter the mansion; three floors, each with a balcony, and each no doubt guarded by three or four men. Even Daud would have his doubts about entering the place. “You know what to do?”

“Get the painting. Don’t be seen.”

“Good enough.” Daud waited until the pristine double doors had closed, and then signalled Corvo forward. “Go.”

“Good luck,” Thomas added quietly from Daud’s other side.

Corvo gave the Whaler a slight nod in thanks, and then disappeared from the roof.

Daud always accompanied the novice recruits on their last trial. Who would judge their capabilities if not he? He was the reason they were training at all, and it was only right that Daud himself oversaw what their time in Rudshore had made of them.

Thomas had successfully abducted a nobleman for his trial, and Billie had killed an Overseer by shooting a bolt through the eye socket of his mask. Daud had gotten blind drunk after Arden’s task, when they had gone to the Distillery District to assassinate a Watch Guard. Finally given free rein in the city, the Whaler had taken on half the neighbourhood in some kind of joyous rampage. The entire District had been was jittery for weeks afterwards, as had Daud’s nerves after witnessing the whole ordeal.

Daud only ever felt uneasy during one in ten of the trials.

He hadn’t expected Corvo’s to be one of them.

“Sir?”

“Hm.”

“You’re tapping.”

Daud clenched his fist to stop himself. He could feel Thomas staring at him. “He’s taking too long.”

“Give him time,” Thomas said. Daud couldn’t comprehend how the man managed to sound so calm. “This one will undoubtedly take a while. It’s a big mansion.”

“So it is,” Daud grated out. Too big. Too many places to station the guards, too much space inside to be able to find cover properly. Not dark enough to keep hidden easily. “I should have chosen something else.”

Thomas tilted his head, considering. “This is perfect for Corvo,” he answered after a moment. “An assassination or abduction would have been too simple for him.”

Daud supposed there was truth in that. Corvo had proven himself quite the fighter; an assassination trial wouldn’t have tested anything, nor would an abduction. Both Daud and Rulfio had agreed a burglary was most fitting for Corvo’s abilities. Stealth. Cunning. Manoeuvring.

“You’re tapping again.”

Daud grit his teeth, and tried to focus on the windows. Around half an hour had passed since Corvo got inside. The mansion was too far across the square to see inside properly, but it didn’t look like any alarms had been raised.

Another five minutes passed. Another five.

Daud started tapping once again, and this time Thomas didn’t bother pointing it out.

Another five minutes.

“Sir.” Thomas’s voice almost made Daud jump, with the concentration he’d been pouring into keeping watch on Shaw’s manor. He followed the Whaler’s gaze to the edge of their roof, where Corvo reappeared.

The boy looked unscathed, and the large, rolled up Sokolov painting was fastened into the side of his belt; Corvo was holding it steady behind his shoulder with one arm.

Daud subtly released the breath he’d been holding, as he and Thomas stood. Daud glanced back over the mansion. No chaos, no one running about. Corvo hadn’t been seen.

When they returned to Rudshore, Daud stored the painting at the back of the office, ready to be delivered to Bunting on another day. Corvo stood patiently in front of the desk, while Daud took a black coat from one of the shelves. The coat marked a master assassin, and as he handed it over, Daud didn’t miss the way Corvo’s eyes shone slightly as he took it from him.

“You’ve earned it.” Daud watched as Corvo shrugged the coat on, and the sight of him wearing it suddenly caused something in Daud’s chest to swell with pride. “You should be proud of yourself. I certainly am.”

Corvo’s eyes widened, tears now obviously forming at the corners. He canted his head forward slightly, until his face was partially hidden beneath his hair. “Thank you, Sir.”

Daud nodded, trying to be rid of the lump forming in his own throat. “Now get out of here. Go celebrate,” he added, grimacing at the group of Whalers pressed up against the glass doors. “You have some imbeciles waiting for you outside.”

Corvo was swarmed by Quinn and the rest of them the second he left the office. Daud began discussing tomorrow’s jobs with Thomas, but his gaze kept flitting towards the corridor. Corvo looked pleased but embarrassed under the fuss he was getting; Daud knew the Whaler disliked being centre of attention, preferring to stay to the sidelines and listen from afar.

Daud found his gaze lingering on the way Corvo’s hair just barely grazed the collar of his new coat. He decided not to order it cut after all. Not today, anyway.

 

***

1833

         1st Day, Month of Earth

 

Daud woke, vision hazy, temples throbbing, in the early hours of the morning. The bed was far too soft to have been his own, and he blearily managed to recollect whereabouts he’d ventured to last night. Near the new bridge the Empress was having built over Wrenhaven, a few miles from the Flooded District. His head hurt just from trying to remember that much.

“The joys of Fugue,” he muttered, voice rough from last night’s alcohol. He felt a body shuffle beside his.

Daud peered over. The nobleman’s tousled hair stuck out from beneath the covers, but the slow rise and fall of his form provided Daud with blessed relief. His companion was still asleep.

Carefully shifting from the bed, Daud glanced through the window as he retrieved his clothes. It was only just becoming light, the sun peeking out from the horizon. The nobleman– Aaron? Adam? Daud couldn’t recall – remained snoring softly while he dressed. Daud left via the open balcony.

He had only ever been caught once after Fugue, and he shuddered at the memory. The Watch officer had woke before he’d managed to sneak out, and the man hadn’t taken kindly to being skipped out on. Daud still had the small scar, just above his hip, from where the man stabbed him with a fork.

Daud staggered his way back to Rudshore, using the rooftops to pass over the chaos from the previous night’s Feast. When he stumbled into the Chamber, through the window of his bedroom, the sun had completely risen. He cursed the broken roof; the light streamed through obtrusively, and he knew he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep until nightfall.

Still, he spent a few minutes resting, sitting on the bed and drifting off until he caught himself swaying. He heard a few of the men returning from their own celebrations, voices far too loud for the morning after Fugue. Daud growled to himself, before pushing himself standing. He all but stumbled down the staircase to the lower floor.

Corvo and a mug of coffee sat waiting for him in the office.

“Attano.”

“Sir.” The man didn’t look up; his eyes remained inspecting a target portrait on the desk. He slid the mug towards Daud as he approached.

Daud grumbled his thanks, nursing the drink in both hands.

“Most of the men seem to have returned,” Corvo informed him.

“I heard them. Hard not to,” Daud added under his breath.

“We have the job in Draper’s Ward later.”

Daud bit out a curse into his mug, making steam from the hot liquid cloud around his jaw. “Outsider’s–” He cut himself off. He didn’t have the energy to complain. “Remind me never to accept a contract the day after Fugue.”

“As you say.”

Daud sipped his drink and glowered at the man’s cool tone. He couldn’t tell if Corvo had partaken in the Feast or not; the twenty-year-old looked no worse for wear, besides the dark shadows beneath his eyes. His hair was a little mussed, but that was nothing unusual.

Corvo slid from where he perched on the desk, and strode for the doors. “Shall I tell the men to prepare?”

Daud grunted an affirmation, deciding to start getting prepared himself. It was sure to be a long afternoon. “Tell Thomas to get here. Billie too, if you can find her,” he added. Outsider knew where Billie went for the Feasts–

Daud suddenly paused, brow furrowed down at his half-finished coffee. No one had known where he’d gone either, let alone when he’d be back in Rudshore. Yet Corvo had somehow known to be waiting for him.

“Attano, how did you know I’d arrived back–” Daud stopped when he realised he was now talking an empty room. His frown deepened, but he finished the coffee.

He forgot the matter in a number of minutes.

But during the next four Feasts, Daud couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being followed.

 

***

1837

         19th Day, Month of Earth

 

The coin purse felt heavy as it was dropped into his palm. Not as heavy as the weight of his actions, however. He forced himself to look Burrows in the eye during the length of their meeting. Daud refused to stay and discuss further jobs with him. The Spymaster– _Lord Regent_ now, Daud supposed – was pleased enough with their work to avoid arguing with him on the matter, and Daud was allowed to leave the Tower earlier than he’d expected.

He had killed an Empress yesterday. The knowledge hit him full force each time he reminded himself what he’d done. He kept a better reign on his emotions today than he had last night. Last night had been turmoil the likes of which he’d never experienced, even with all his years of killing for coin. Daud hadn’t had time before his meeting with Burrows to tidy the bedroom, which he’d all but destroyed in his remorse the previous night.

But when he returned to Rudshore, and retreated to the Chamber’s highest floor, he saw that the bedroom had been cleaned up in his absence. Daud didn’t have to question who was responsible.

He found Corvo above the Grieves Refinery. Daud had wondered for years who the figure perching there most afternoons was. Of course it was Corvo.

Daud quickly realised he hadn’t prepared what he’d say to the man, having found him. _Thank you_ , he supposed would be appropriate. _You didn’t have to stay with me last night_ , would also be a decent choice. _I’m sorry you had to see me like that_ , would be even better. Daud had never been good with expressing his gratitude.

But Corvo looked so peaceful, so comfortable in his solitude, that Daud didn’t have the heart to disturb him. He decided to let the man be. Corvo deserved more than a few empty words of thanks.

So Daud stayed out of sight, watching as Corvo took a slow drag from his cigarette. The smoke drifted upwards, catching the breeze and swirling towards the sky. Daud had never noticed the shape of Corvo’s lips before, had never really focused on them. Narrow, but not thin. A handsome curl appeared at one corner as he took another drag. The sight of the smoke seeping out from Corvo’s mouth caused Daud to swallow hard.

He left soon afterwards, and returned to his now orderly bedroom. The Outsider visited him that night, and gave him Delilah’s name.

 

***

1837

         28th Day, Month of High Cold

 

Daud was drawn from his thoughts when Corvo entered the infirmary. He paced to Daud’s bed and held a glass of water out to him. “Drink.”

Daud accepted it without argument, forcing himself not to smirk at Corvo’s strict tone. They had arrived back in Rudshore that evening, and the tension between the two of them was still strung tight after Brigmore. Daud wasn’t about to test his luck by teasing the man, especially when he wore that particular glare.

Daud scanned around the infirmary as he drank. Everyone else was sleeping. Galia was a few beds away, Jordan snoring on the chair at her side. Montgomery came in every few minutes to keep an eye on the patients. Daud waved the Whaler off each time he came towards him; his leg felt better already, given the accelerated healing his mark granted him.

“You looked thoughtful,” Corvo said, once again disrupting Daud’s thoughts. He had hopped up onto the windowsill, and didn’t meet Daud’s gaze as he spoke. “Before I came in. What were you thinking about?”

Daud placed the glass on the bedside table, and didn’t answer. He observed Corvo instead, framed against the dim light from the window. That forsaken fucking hair; Daud was amazed it hadn’t gotten the man killed yet, with the way it hung ever so slightly over his eyes. Corvo’s brow was arched, his expression tenaciously hard to read. He was still angry about Brigmore, that much was obvious. _I won’t forgive you_ , he had said. Daud didn’t blame him. Had it been Corvo pushing him into that crypt instead, Daud wouldn’t have forgiven him either.

He wished Corvo had agreed to leave with him. Daud wouldn't deny the crushing disappointment he'd felt at the man's answer. He wanted Corvo safe, somewhere far away from the plague and the Regent and the chaos in Dunwall. But Corvo had unfinished business here, and Daud would be damned if he abandoned him now, after all Corvo had been through for him, _because_ of him, in the last six months. _The last ten years_ , he corrected.

Corvo must have felt him staring. His dark eyes flit in Daud’s direction, only briefly, before returning to the window. “What?”

“Come here.”

Corvo didn’t move.

“Come here,” Daud said again, in the kind of tone he’d heard Andrei use to soothe their new wolfhounds.

Corvo hesitated a while longer, before slipping from the windowsill and stepping close to the bed. He stopped there, and Daud sighed through his nose at the man’s stubbornness. Daud grabbed the hem of his shirt, tugging him onto the bed and pulling him close against his chest. Corvo froze, and Daud didn’t have to ask why. There were quite a few people in the room, all sleeping, but within sight and earshot all the same. Neither of them had spent much time together, not close as they were now, around the other men.

“I was thinking,” Daud began, hoping answering Corvo’s question would help relax the man a little, “about how irritating you’ve been over the years.”

“You’re no joy, either,” Corvo retorted instantly. Daud had to muffle his chuckle against Corvo’s hair to avoid waking the room.

“I think I loved you not long after I met you,” Daud continued. “It just took time to realise.”

“I was fifteen when you met me.” He felt Corvo’s smile against his shoulder. “Disgusting old man.”

Daud couldn’t suppress his laugh this time, and Jordan twitched slightly in his chair before settling back to sleep again.

“Perhaps not when you were younger, then,” Daud relented. “But there was something there.”

“Hmph.” Corvo had noticeably relaxed, becoming heavy with exhaustion. “You’re talking too much. Go to sleep,” he mumbled, trying to tug the covers over them; Daud’s injured leg was trapping them at the bottom of the bed. Corvo huffed, annoyed, before giving up.

Daud eased himself forward, leaning down to free the covers and wrap them firmly around Corvo’s now half-asleep form. He pressed a kiss into Corvo’s hair, lingering there for a moment. “I love you,” he said quietly. “Even though you’re a maddening little shit.”

Corvo curled closer into his arms, almost too close, as though he’d forgotten they were two separate people. And despite the negligible space between them now, Daud managed to pull him closer still. This is what he had been missing for years, he realised.

“What a fool I am,” he said quietly.

Corvo hummed sleepily, in agreement.

Daud eventually allowed himself to find sleep as well, after he pushed the day’s events, the ambush, the Void, Delilah, to the back of his mind. He focused instead on Corvo, sleeping soundly in his arms, finding peace in the knowledge that he was there, and would remain there until Daud woke.


End file.
